Day 7: Assisi

 When I lived in Florence, Italy, years ago as a student I visited the surrounding areas with the other art students and Peter Purcell, our Czech born art history lecturer who had lived in Italy for well over 2 decades. He had the job of taking us around and giving us the history of art and architecture as well as the gossip and scandals of the Renaissance in Florence. About once a month he would take us to a small town in the north of Italy to show us different monumental works. One month he organised a trip to Assisi. Ever since I was a child (with hippy parents) my favourite film has been Franco Zefferelli's Brother Son Sister Moon about the life of St. Francis of Assisi. He is my favourite saint and I am still spellbound by his simple and spiritual life. In fact, when either of me or my next sister (who was also highly influenced and particularly good with animals) were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up it was always "a nun and an artist" (me) and "a nun and a nurse who takes care of babies" (her). Neither of us are nuns now, but I am an artist and she is a paediatric nurse.

 Peter, our teacher, put us onto a private coach in the wee hours of the morning before the sun had even risen. We travelled in the dark to this tiny little village on the side of a mountain in the province of Umbria (pictured above). I have a few strong memories of the day. I remember piling out of the coach with all the other bleary eyed artists (all of us without exception being night owls and not morning birds) and climbing up the hill to Rocco Maggiore. We were then drawn into the main town and along the streets to the large Basilica di San Francesco where we were shown in detail Giotto's frescos.  It was with sadness that I read in 1997 that there had been an earthquake that had badly damaged the work.

 My next impression was being led to a main square where we all lounged and pulled out our lunches or scurried off to find one. The rest of the time was for ourselves. I sat down and pulled out my watercolour set and began painting an interesting roof in the piazza. A young girl came over, sat beside me and watched me for a while. She then pulled out a paper and started doing a drawing as well. She gave it to me when she finished. I wish I had given her my little painting, but I don't think it was dry. I gave it to another good friend instead.

 Sitting in the square I became aware of the number of animals just walking freely around. Birds were perched about and I had a strong sense of peace in this little town. I could feel St Frances' presence there as the saint of animals. I wished I could have stayed longer and always thought I would like to return some day. It wouldn't happen that year as I was lucky enough to be studying in Italy and was living like a pauper to do it. It was a dream come true thanks to my parents' help and a student loan. 

 So here I am now with my husband entering into Assisi once again.

 We climb the streets heading for the Basilica.

 Basilica Di San Francesco is quite amazing for such a small town. It has both an upper and lower church inside. The sombre lower church has low lit vaulted ceilings and was intended to create a mood of calm and introspection. Beneath it lies the crypt which was only brought to light in 1818 as he was hidden after his funeral for safekeeping. There is a constant stream of pilgrims streaming past his tomb.
The upper church is light and airy which is covered in Giotto's 28 frescos on the life of St. Francis alongside corresponding old and new testament images. There are no photos allowed in the church itself, so a picture from the outside will have to suffice.

 We slowly walk up Via San Francesco which is the thriving heart of the selling of St. Francis in every kind of tacky tourist and pilgrim piece of memorabilia you could imagine. It is ironic given the simple aesthetic and spiritual values of St. Frances himself.

 Some of the better wares were the icons.

 Each town has various water fountains you can drink and wash in.

 Assisi even has a St. Claire opera (she was the young woman who began the female order of the Poor Clares alongside St. Frances).

 Looking at some of the architecture I can imagine what it might have been like in St. Frances's time.

 The road takes us right into the main square, Piazza Del Commune. We start our visit in the town a bit late in the morning and the sun is starting to burn down. Interestingly summer is low season in Assisi. High season is over Easter or during the Festa di San Francesco (Oct 3-4) or Calendimaggion (early May).

 We enter into Chiesa Nuova, the church that was built on the site of St. Frances's birth:  his family home. Through a door near the altar you can enter an area that has retained the original part of the house. Above you can see a stairwell.

 This is the original door of the house, now hung in the interior.

 Outside a statue of his parents (Pietro Bernardone was his father).

 Here is the outside facade of Chiesa Nuova. Interestingly it was built by King Philip III of Spain in the 1600's.

Did I mention that there are a lot of monks and nuns in Assisi?

Above is the Duomo di San Rufino where St. Frances and St. Clare were both baptised.

We wind our way through little streets and I consider my options for returning.

 We begin the climb to the top end of the town up steep steps.

 From there we look out over Rocca Minore, the small fortress on the south east corner of the walled town.

The valley below is beautiful. I wonder if there is a monastery somewhere down there.

 A look back over the Duomo.

Us!  

 We have climbed to Rocca Mggiore, the 14th century hill fortress which offers a 360 view of Perugia to the north and the surrounding valleys below.

 The views.

 We head back into town and every so often I catch a glimpse of something that I am interested in art-wise. This modern drawing caught my eye.

 I manage to convince a hesitant Nigel to come with me to Santa Chiara (where St. Clare is buried)…

 ...then on through the city gates near it to do the shortest of the pilgrim walks that afternoon.

 We glimpse back at a view of the city.

 We head off on the San Damiano trail, the original home to the Poor Clares and one of St. Francis's favourite spots. As one of our guide books put it, "the church, cloisters, and rustic setting preserve - almost uniquely in Assisi - a sense of the original Franciscan ideals of humility and simplicity often absent in the rest of the town".

 We wander down the stone path out of town and through olive groves.

 San Damiano is where St. Frances wrote The Canticle to the Creatures when he was recovering from an illness. The Poor Clares built a small cottage for him here. We sit and wait outside in the quiet country for the church to open after siesta. A young nun approaches us and tells us where we can find different rooms in the building and welcomes us to the church. She tells us there are 3 nuns and 20 monks living in the monastery. She gives our marriage a blessing of The Canticles of the Creatures.

 We head back into the town for the last time. I am resolved to study my Italian, come back to stay in a monastery, and paint more of my saint series. It is a place I need to be. I can imagine it to be an annual pilgrimage.

 It is so good to be back and interesting to see how my memory of the place has been mixed in with nostalgia for St. Frances and my time in Italy as a student. Assisi still holds that peace for me and I will come back in the colder months to do a pilgrimage to Eremo dell Carceri (a 4 km trek to a set of caves St. Frances chose as his hermitage and where he retired to contemplate spiritual matters) and stay a short while to paint. I now know I can catch a very cheap flight to Pisa from London, take the train to the new Assisi and walk the 5km to the old village. Or I can catch a bus direct from Florence.

 We leave Assisi behind and head to Santa Maria deli Angeli in the nearby new town (5 km away), a huge seventeenth century church. Inside in the middle of the church is a tiny chapel, the first Franciscan monastery. St Frances lived here after founding the order in 1208 when it was then remote and wooded. He was soon joined by other monks and hermits who built a series of mud huts in the area.

We head off to camp on Lake Trasimeno arriving just after sunset at camp Kursaal, in the garden of a small villa hotel. Lovely.